He Didn't Know I Was the Mafia Princess
I'm the daughter of Don Falcone.
After I got back from studying abroad, my family threw a welcome-home banquet, conveniently setting me up to meet the fiancé my father had handpicked for me—Santino Moretti.
My father praised the guy to the skies in his letters: he was the heir to the Moretti family, elegant, ruthless, drop-dead gorgeous, and holding half the city’s underground operations in the palm of his hand.
I arrived at the Elysium Hotel right on the dot.
Just as I was about to take a seat, a hand shoved me hard.
A woman's shrill voice pierced my ear.
"Livia, what's a Sicilian peasant like you doing here? This is the Imperial Suite. Do you think you even deserve to breathe the air in a place like this?"
I recognized the woman. It was Bella, a bitch who had always had it out for me back in college. She was clearly trying to humiliate me.
Instead of getting mad, I smirked.
"Whether I deserve to be here or not—is that for you to decide?"
Bella sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I'm Mr. Santino's personal assistant. Today, Mr. Santino is hosting the eldest daughter of the Falcone family here. This isn't an occasion for bottom-feeding trash like you."
"Be smart and crawl back to your slum."
I pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé.
I wanted to ask him if it was a tradition in the Moretti family to let their dogs bark at the front door.